Reunion
by letmefallasleep
Summary: After a fight with Gus, Shawn disappears for seven years, leaving his family to wonder what happened to him. But then one day, Shawn appears at Gus's office. Gus knows his best friend is hiding something... Including the real reason he came back.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Alright, so new Shawn story... Yay, and all that... Even though I haven't finished Life Of Lies... Well... Anyways, um, usual warnings apply to this... Or at least, my usual warnings... Mentions of child abuse, alcohol abuse, mentions of rape, prescription drug abuse, self-mutilation, depression, etc, etc. Dark dark stuff, kiddies. Read at your own risk.

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing other than the story line, which I'm sure someone else has already written something similar to. I don't own Psych, or any of the characters from Psych. They're all the product of the directors and producers of the show, who make money off of the show. I, on the other hand, do not make any money for this. Meaning there's no copyright infringement. Teehee.

It was nearly three o'clock in the morning when a quiet tapping sound on Gus's window made him sit up, instantly awake. It took him a moment to realize that the hideous looking… thing… at his window was actually his best friend, rubbing his face all over the glass and making faces.

"Shawn, what the hell are you doing?" The seventeen year old hissed, getting up, and opening the window. "Are you crazy?"

Shawn Spencer scoffed, and nearly fell over as he climbed into the bedroom. "Don't be ridunkulous, Guster… I'm obviously climbing… climbing up your… your… your… stupid, fence like white thing –"

"The lattice," Gus supplied with an eye roll.

"Yes! Yes, the… the lettuce! I'm climbing up the lettuce to get to your room… because… your room is clearly on the… on the… not bottom floor of this… this mansion like house," Shawn said with a laugh, throwing his arms out to encompass the supposed enormity of the house, and nearly falling over again.

Gus grabbed him, and pushed him into the chair with a sigh. "Shawn… Do I even need to ask if you've been drinking?"

"Of course… I haven't been… Well, yeah… I'm drinking. Was drinking? Yup," Shawn confirmed, nodding his head. "I am definitely drunk, man," He said with a giggle.

"Dammit, Shawn…" Gus muttered. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

Shawn stuck his tongue out at him. " 'Cause… It's fun, Gussy. Gussy Poo. You should… Should… Loosen up… Have fun… You're no fun, Gus-meister." He giggled again, as Gus sighed.

"Where's your dad, Shawn?"

Shawn rolled his eyes, as he flopped back in the chair, a petulant pout coming to his lips. "Out… 'saving the city', or something. Last… last I knew… He was… was on a… a… cookout… No, stakeout!"

"And just when the hell was that?"

Shawn shrugged, and yawned. "I… I dunno," He said thickly. "A few days ago? Right after he… he freaking… arrested me."

"He what?" Gus exclaimed loudly.

"Shhh! You'll wake… wake up your parents… Burton. What kind of a name is Burton, anyways? Apparently… your parents… don't like you… any more than they like me… namin' you… Burton."

"It's a family name, Shawn. We've been over this. And my parents don't not like you. And what do you mean he arrested you?"

Shawn sighed, and started making weird hand motions with his left hand. "I might have… maybe… helped my at the time… girlfriend –"

"Amanda Detweiler?"

"No. Try and keep up, Gus, Mandy was… last Friday. This was… Wednesday."

"So who were you with?"

"Not sure. That… That freaky chick with… the black make up. And the black hair. And the black clothes. One of those ones. Dunno which one… But one of 'em."

Gus rolled his eyes. Shawn seemed to go through a girl a day sometimes, and still somehow came out smelling like roses. All the girls he'd been with still talked to him (for the most part), and considered him a friend. _Even when he couldn't remember their names_, he thought sighing.

"Alright. So you helped your Wednesday girlfriend…?"

"Oh… yeah, we uh… Well she… hotwired her neighbor's car… And we might have went joyriding."

"You stole a car? Shawn, what the hell is wrong with you, huh?"

Instantly, the laughing, joking Shawn vanished. Gus almost shivered at how quickly Shawn's face went dark, his normally playful green eyes shifting to a much darker color, almost black in his anger. Gus had seen his best friend 'go dark' as the other kids at school referred to it, but never that quickly.

Never aimed at him.

"Shawn, just rel –"

"Shut up, Gus. You know what? This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here."

Almost before the words were out of his mouth, Shawn had shimmied back through the window, and climbed down the lattice, and disappeared into the dark night.

Gus didn't know it would be the last time he would see his friend in seven years.

* * *

At twenty-five years old, Burton Guster was pretty damn pleased with his life. Making 40K a year, pretty cushy job that didn't involve any physical labor…

He smiled as he leaned back in his chair, glancing out the large window of his office. The view definitely was another job perk. From this vantage point, he had a great view of Santa Barbara. Granted, it wasn't as good as the ones from the top offices, but his office on the seventh story weren't anything to complain about.

Yup. Gus's life was going pretty good.

"Hey, Gussie Poo!"

Gus nearly fell out of his chair, and spun around.

"Excuse me, who are you?" He demanded of the young man lazily leaning against his door. He clearly didn't work in the building, and it was even more obvious he wasn't a doctor. In fact, between the light brown leather jacket, the dark clothes, and the ear piercing, he wondered if the man was there to rob him. "These offices are private; no visitors allowed. I'm afraid you'll have to leave."

The young, brunette gave him a cheeky smile. "Gus-ikens, I'm hurt. Right here," He said, pointing to the right side of his chest. "Or… right here. Or wherever the heart is. I come back to town for the sole purpose of seeing you, and I'm not allowed to visit?"

Gus squinted, disbelieving. "Shawn? Shawn Spencer?"

The cheeky smile grew into a full-fledged grin. "The one and only, buddy."

"Oh my god, it is you. Shawn!"

Shawn laughed as Gus embraced him tightly. "Easy, Gus," He wheezed good-naturedly.

Gus instantly drew back. "You alright?"

Gus barely noticed the minute hesitation, before Shawn laughed again, and swatted him on the back.

"What? Of course I'm okay! I'm just sore from a twelve hour ride. On my motorcycle," Shawn said, his voice low and adventurous.

"Your motorcycle? For real?" Gus held up one hand to stop himself. "Wait; why don't you go outside and wait a minute. Just let me sign out early, and we'll go grab a bite to eat."

Shawn smiled, and embraced him tightly. "Sounds great, Gus. I'll be waiting."

Gus watched as Shawn practically bounced down the hallway towards the elevators, before whispering, "I missed you, Shawn."

* * *

It was nearly twenty minutes later that the two old friends sat outside of their favorite restaurant, two plates of jerked chicken and potatoes sitting in front of them.

Shawn dug into his food like a man starving, moaning as he took his first bite.

"Oh man, Gus… I forgot how great this place was. Never found a place that did jerked chicken as good as here."

Gus saw it as the perfect opportunity. "Where'd you go looking?"

Shawn grinned at him. "Not the most subtle way of asking, but I'll give you kudos for the effort," He said with a laugh, before growing serious again. "But uh… Really, I went just about everywhere. Never really stayed in one place for more than a week usually," He said, shrugging uncomfortably. "Longest time was in Pittsburgh for a few months."

Gus stared at him in surprise. "How'd you make any money? Where'd you go after you left? Hell, scratch that, why did you leave?"

Shawn rolled his eyes as he took another big bite of his food. After swallowing, he said, "I left 'cause I wasn't gonna stick around and wait for Henry to arrest me again. And the first place I went was up to Washington. Tried my mom's house, but she was on one of her trips."

Gus waited for more details, but by the way Shawn set his jaw, and then dug into his food, he knew none were forthcoming. He briefly debated about trying to force Shawn to talk, but didn't really give it much thought. He wasn't going to risk him running again.

So instead, he asked, "Have you seen either of your parents?"

Shawn shrugged. "Nope."

Gus's eyes nearly flew off his head in surprise. "Are you serious! I thought it was just me you didn't contact! You're tellin' me that nobody's heard from you until last year?"

Shawn shrugged again. "Wasn't like it was any great loss. Notice just about everybody continued on without me," He said bitterly.

"Don't even try and lay the guilt trip on me, Shawn! Or anybody for that matter! Your mother came back here after you went missing; we all spent months trying to find you. Your father had everyone out looking for you. Hell, he managed to get it out on the news! I posted flyers everywhere! And every single time somebody called and said they thought they saw you, your dad and me went all over God's good creation to follow the leads! For almost a year, Shawn!

"Do you even know where your dad is? I know you don't, because nobody else does either! About a year after you went missing, he packed everything up in his truck, and hit the road looking for you! Nobody's heard from him either, Shawn! Nobody knew…" Gus swiped the tears out of his eyes angrily, unable to continue.

Shawn's eyes were huge. "I figured…"

"Yeah, you figured wrong, Shawn," Gus interrupted. "You know… the first few months, we all figured you'd been kidnapped. Do you know how guilty I felt? That I just let you leave like that? We all thought you'd tried walking home, and either gotten hit and killed or somebody had just… grabbed you and drove off."

Shawn looked at him in disbelief. "Why in God's good name would you think I'd been kidnapped?"

"Because you just vanished, Shawn! Off the face of the earth! Nobody thought you were selfish enough to just disappear like that! Without a word to anybody! So yeah, our natural assumption was that somebody kidnapped you!"

"I was seventeen, Gus! You knew how it was living with my dad; him, I could understand thinking I'd been kidnapped. But you? You should have known –"

"Should have known? Should have known that my best friend ran away without a word? And now, what, after seven years, you just decide to bounce back into town? Why now? Huh?"

The two were silent for a moment, but Gus continued giving his former best friend the steely eyed glare. Finally, Shawn sighed, and reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small pill bottle, and set it down on the table.

"You're a pharmaceutical rep, right? So you know what that is," Shawn said, avoiding meeting Gus's questioning look, as the dark-skinned man grabbed the bottle.

"Rythmol? That's a form of propafenone, right? Shawn, where did you get this?" Gus asked quizzically.

"It's mine," Shawn said quietly, staring down at his plate, still refusing to meet Gus's eyes.

"But this is for people with…"

"Tachycardia."

Gus froze. "Shawn, are you serious? This isn't some sort of joke, is it?"

Shawn laughed bitterly. "I wish. Nope, dead serious, buddy." He pulled his shirt up, revealing a long, thick scar down the center of his chest. "Even got myself a pacemaker."

"A…"

"Yeah, Gus. Had a heart attack three months ago. The doctor I was seeing in Pittsburgh was trying to get it under control when I collapsed. Massive heart attack. Nearly died, blah blah blah, and all that. Couldn't get it under control, had surgery, etcetera, etcetera… and here I am."

Gus was silent as he absorbed it all. Tachycardia. Fancy medical term meaning a person's heart beat too fast. Fancy medical term that hid the severity of the genetic disorder. If a person's heart beat too fast, it restricted blood flow to the brain, and other organs, usually leading to organ failure, strokes, heart attacks… Death wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence.

"Are uh… Is it um… Are you…" Gus couldn't force the words out of his mouth. But –just like old times –Shawn knew what he meant.

Shawn smiled. "Yes, I'm okay, yes it's under control, and no, I'm not going to die," He said carelessly, grabbing the pill bottle out of Gus's hands, and sticking it back in his pocket. "But look, I've uh… got some things to take care of… I'm thinking about sticking around for a while… Maybe get an apartment, find a job. So uh… I'll see you around, alright?"

Gus nodded wordlessly, a large lump in his throat, as Shawn stood, and walked over to his bike, shooting Gus a wave before driving off.

Gus continued to sit at the table, for how long, he wasn't exactly sure.

He knew it was lies. Something had spooked Shawn enough to come running back to Santa Barbara after seven years. It wasn't just for a 'visit'. A near death experience might explain it… But combined with Shawn's carefree, cavalier attitude about the whole thing, and Gus started to wonder.

Was Shawn really okay? Or was this a final farewell?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Alrighty so here's the next chapter. Hope y'all enjoy. : )

* * *

Shawn kept taking deep breathes as he slowly made his way down the residential streets of Santa Barbara, chuckling a bit as he realized the sleepy little neighborhood he'd grown up in hadn't changed at all. The brightly colored paint jobs had faded, and the Buicks and Oldsmobiles of his youth had given way Impalas and Neons, but otherwise, it looked to Shawn as if the whole neighborhood had gotten stuck in a time warp.

He grinned to himself as he thought about that. Like the whole place had just stopped the night he left. He was the…

He stopped, and shook his head sadly, cutting himself off mid-thought. It wasn't like that at all. And when he forced himself to look –to really look –it had changed a lot since he'd disappeared.

Everything had, apparently.

For a moment, as he leaned on his bike in front of the house he'd grown up in, he wondered what the point was. It didn't matter if the neighborhood had changed. If Gus had changed.

What mattered was, _he_ had changed. He wasn't the same pissed off kid who had bolted seven years, four months, and sixteen days ago.

He scrubbed his face with his hands, and let the smiling mask he'd kept on for Guster fade away. How long had it been since he'd actually smiled? Because he wanted to? Had he smiled since that first night he'd headed towards the 101, determined to make his way to San Diego? He'd been so stupid… So naïve… It was a wonder somebody hadn't just killed him.

He clamped down on that line of thought quickly, refusing to let those memories well up. It didn't matter anymore. He was back in Santa Barbara, his old stomping grounds, and that was all that mattered.

He really was thinking about hanging around for a while; that was one of the few things he'd told Gus that hadn't been a lie. The fact that his father was gone made the plan all the more appealing. Granted, he was sure he'd have to deal with his mother sooner or later, but he could work up to that.

Maybe.

He had a little over seven hundred dollars saved up, rolled into a tight wad, and wrapped up in a sock, hidden at the bottom of his saddlebag. Should be more than enough to find himself a cheap apartment somewhere. He should have asked Gus where he was staying; would have given him a reference point to start apartment searching.

He chuckled a little, as he climbed back on his bike, and knocked up the kickstand. Knowing Gus, he was probably still living with his parents.

Or maybe not. He had to admit, he'd been surprised to find out that Gus was working as a pharmaceutical salesman for one of the most prestigious and well-paying pharmaceutical companies in California. He should have thought to ask where Gus was living.

Off-handedly, he wondered if Mr. Guster had realized that it was his son's best friend he was supplying all this information to. If the man had been even slightly suspicious of a 'census taker' calling in the middle of the day, in the middle of the year.

Lying had gotten easy; way too easy. Just like his dad had promised it would. Or maybe threatened. Either way…

Sometimes, he scared himself with how well he lied. How quickly the falsehood would leave his lips, with barely any thought.

Just as it had during his lunch with Gus.

He thought back to Gus's questions. Was he okay? Ha, that was a laugh. He was far, far from okay. Maybe as far from okay as a person could get and not be dead. Maybe.

The Rythmol for his heart condition –the one that would probably kill him before he hit thirty-five, if the doctors were right –didn't mix well with his other medications. The Vicodin for his old leg injury, the one where he'd been thrown from a moving vehicle, and shattered his femur. The Ceptaz to help fight off infections since his spleen had been removed three years ago. The Axert for his migraines, one of many long term side effects from the baseball bat he'd taken to the head.

He'd long since given up on taking his Lithium or Concerta, for his Bipolar II, and ADHD respectively. When faced with life-threatening injuries, mental problems just didn't seem as serious anymore.

Really, when he thought about it… Wasn't like he had much of a shot of making it past thirty-five anyways. It was a miracle he'd made it as long as he'd had. How many times had he survived injuries that should have killed him?

Which was why he didn't think about it, he reminded himself, forcefully shoving the unwanted memories back into the little cubbyhole he kept them in. He was home again. In Santa Barbara.

He grinned as he pushed his bike faster and faster towards downtown. He'd forgotten how good it felt to zip down the highways, sun shining, warm weather, the smell of the ocean…

It was good to be home.

* * *

It was only a few hours later when Shawn stepped inside of his new apartment.

Well… it wasn't exactly an 'apartment' per se. He'd seen the 'For Sale/Rent' sign in the window of the old Paulanjo's Pizza Parlor, and stopped. For some reason, it'd seemed like a great idea.

He'd managed to talk the old woman who owned it into taking seventy five dollars a week until she found someone who was interested in the place.

He actually grinned as he took stock of the place. Yeah, he'd need to get blankets to put over the windows to keep everyone on Main St looking in and seeing him, but other than that… It was perfect. He could throw up a mattress just about anywhere in what had been the eatery part of the place, and while the lady had told him not to use the ovens because of the electricity, she'd told him that the freezer was on anyways; he might as well use it.

The parking behind the place was perfect too; he'd already parked his motorcycle out back, and brought in his bags, with no one seeing him.

His bags…

They sat there in the middle of the empty room, staring at him. Well, not really staring at him, he admitted, but it seemed like they were. If he tried, he could almost picture little eyes on them, sta –

No. He shook his head, trying to clear it, to reign his ADHD back in. It really wasn't the time for his imagination to be running wild.

With shaking hands, he slowly opened the first of the two backpacks, and began emptying it. One white tee, two button down shirts, one black, the other red. One pair of jeans. Two pairs of socks. And there at the bottom, his plethora of pills. Dr. Alvarez had given him five refill prescriptions for each prescription. He did a quick mental calculation in his head, and sighed in relief when he came to the conclusion that that would give him almost five months before he had to worry about getting more.

At least that's one thing out of the way, he thought, reaching for the other bag.

Mostly, it held an assortment of odds and ends that he'd managed to hang on to over the years. A picture of him and Gus as kids. A blanket he'd gotten from an elderly woman he'd spent a week working for. Some emergency food.

But at the bottom, beneath all of the keepsakes, he found what he was looking for.

He wasn't sure what kind of gun it was, other than a pistol. He'd grabbed it off of Birdy's body right before he hit the road, running for all he was worth. Well, not literally running, he wouldn't have outran JC by running, but metaphorically speaking… And had he really outrun him?

He shook his head. All thoughts he didn't need right now. He was home, safe in Santa Barbara, and that was all that mattered.

For the moment, anyways.

* * *

Gus had debated, hesitated, thought about, and considered for almost an hour. Staring at the phone, picking it up, putting it back down, then picking it up again.

He sighed, and leaned back in his office chair, staring out his window as he rubbed at his forehead.

The responsible side of him said that he had to call Mrs. Spencer. Had to let her know that Shawn was back in town. After seven years of agonizing over her only child's fate, she deserved to know that he was alive, at the very least.

But the part of Gus that had always went along with Shawn's antics, that had always looked out for him –Gus decided to call that part of himself 'Stupid Gus' –said it wasn't right. He couldn't betray Shawn's trust like that. If Shawn wanted to call her, fine and so be it. But Responsible Gus shouldn't be the one to call, according to Stupid Gus.

But another part of him, the realistic side, wondered if there was even any point in getting Maddie's hopes up. Was Shawn even still in town? Or had he disappeared again after seeing the many parts of Gus? His spiel about getting an apartment had rung true, but it wouldn't have been the first time that Shawn managed to pull one over on his best friend. Had Shawn jumped on his motorcycle, and fled from town again as soon as he was out of sight?

Besides, what would he even say? 'Hey, Mrs. Spencer, Shawn blew into town today… Don't know where he is now, but he's got a serious heart condition, and I think he's running from something. Nice talking to you, bye!'.

Yeah… probably not.

He sighed again as he picked up the phone, and dialed.

Maybe she won't even be home, he thought. If he was lucky.

But of course he wasn't.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Spencer? It's Gus," He said thickly, a lump forming in his throat.

"Why, Guster! It's so good to hear from you!" Maddie said happily. "How're you doing?"

"Um… I uh…" Gus took a deep breath, then said quickly, "Shawncametomyofficetoday."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, before Maddie's hoarse voice asked, "What?"

"Um… Shawn uh… He came to my office. Today. About two hours ago, actually."

"Oh my God! Is he alright? Where is he?"

"I uh… I'm not sure, Mrs. Spencer. He said he was gonna get an apartment here."

"In Santa Barbara?"

"Yeah. But uh… We had lunch together, and then he left. Said he had things to do."

"I'm flying right down."

"Mrs. Spencer, I…"

"I'll call you with my flight information."

Gus sighed. "Alright. See you soon, Mrs. Spencer."

* * *

It was a few hours later, and Gus was just getting ready to leave the office, when his phone rang. Growling under his breath, he picked it up with a curt, "Hello?"

"Hey, buddy! Got myself a place to stay. Looking for someone to help me throw a house-warming party."

Gus almost laughed in relief. "Shawn!"

"Well, yeah… I told you I was sticking around for a while. So what do you say, Gus? Wanna come over, see the new place, hang out, catch up on old times?"

"You know it!"

"Alright, Gus-Meister! What time you get done with work?"

"I was actually getting ready to leave right now."

"Alright. You know where Paulanjo's Pizza is?"

Gus frowned. "Yeah, but they went out of business a few months ago."

"I know. Go home, grab your PJ's, and meet me there."

"But –" Gus sighed as he heard the click of the other line.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Alrighty, so thanks torchil, islashlove, and Mitarashi for reviewing... I really appreciate it. So here's chapter three, and please peeps, if you like it, review it... Reviews make my day... Lack of reviews makes me sad... Anyways, this is a bit of a short chapter, when I posted this on psychfic, the chapters were a little bit different, and I messed them all up when I started them over here, so... Oops. Anyways, if I'm not too busy, I'll throw up the next chapter later tonight.

* * *

It was almost an hour later when Gus stood in front of what had been one of the oldest pizza joints in Santa Barbara. He felt like an idiot, standing around, waiting for Shawn to show up, but he stood there anyways.

"Gus!"

Yelping in surprise, Gus spun around, relieved –but slightly confused –to see Shawn standing in the doorway of the old building.

"Shawn! What're you doing?" He hissed. "That's trespassing!"

Shawn grinned. "Not anymore, buddy. I'm renting it. This is my new apartment. Well, at least until the old woman finds somebody interested in buying it. Come on in!"

Gus glanced around as he stepped inside. "Not very… apartment-y," He commented, taking note of the sleeping bag, and the two backpacks lying next to them, the only things in the large dining area.

Shawn shrugged. "When you're traveling the country on a motorcycle, you learn to pack light," He said uncomfortably.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Gus cleared his throat. "So… uh, how long you planning on sticking around?"

Shawn flashed Gus his trademark grin. "As long as this town can hold me," He said, using a horribly fake villain's accent.

* * *

How long had they stayed up talking? It seemed like forever.

It didn't seem nearly long enough.

Granted, Gus had done most of the talking, which was a little unusual. But Shawn had interjected small stories here and there, enough to keep the conversation going, and the playful banter had kept things light and fun.

But Shawn had fallen asleep almost half an hour ago. Gus glanced at his watch. Three thirty. He should have been asleep already, but he was afraid. Afraid of waking up, and finding Shawn gone again. Or worse, that it had all just been a dream.

He smiled as Shawn mumbled, and rolled over, rubbing his head in his sleep. It was something he'd done since they were both kids. A kind of nervous tick. When the two had first become friends back in second grade, it had kept Gus up for hours during sleep-overs. But after a few months, he'd gotten used to it. Now, he realized just how much he had missed it.

His smile faded as he looked closer. When Shawn had rolled over onto his stomach, his shirt had rolled up in the back, revealing…

Gus nearly puked when he realized what he was looking at. He crept closer, and examined what he could see of his friend's back, and could only stare.

Long thin scars covered the few inches of skin that Gus could see. But the raised white marks disappeared down below his jeans, and up under his shirt.

Gus had seen scares like that before, on pictures of his great-great grandparents. His parents had shown them to him to hammer home the injustices of slavery. Told him the story that had been passed down through five generations of Gusters. How Marcus Guster had been a young slave who was beaten half to death for learning to read. How he'd been whipped with a bull-whip for almost two hours.

The scars in the pictures were nearly identical to the ones on his best friend's back.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Alright, so... Here's the next chapter. Thank you to my reviewers, and to those of you who don't review... Bad bad bad readers... : P

* * *

He'd been so careful. So gentle.

But somehow, Shawn had known.

And Gus wasn't prepared for the gun.

All he'd tried to do was carefully –_oh so very carefully, as to avoid waking his best friend_ –lift Shawn's shirt up. Why, he wasn't exactly sure. Had he really wanted to see more of the scars?

But he'd tried.

And the second his hand had touched Shawn's shirt, the brunette man had come alive. Flipping over to his back faster than Gus could see, slamming his fist into his head, and knocking him backwards before Gus could even process what was going on.

But he could see the gun. He wasn't sure where Shawn had pulled it from –maybe underneath his pillow, or the sleeping bag –but he was almost sure that Shawn intended to shoot him.

Even if he didn't mean to shoot his best friend, his breathing was so ragged… his hands quivering… His eyes wide and wild… it'd be a miracle if Shawn didn't shoot him on accident.

"Shawn… Shawn, it's me. Gus. I was just… I just wanted to touch you, and… make sure this wasn't all a dream," Gus lied, keeping his voice calm and level.

The gun wavered, and Shawn's eyes slowly came into focus, right before he lowered the gun.

"Gus? What the hell were you thinking?"

* * *

Shawn tried to level out his breathing. Hell, tried to remember how to breathe.

It had been an instinctual response. He'd felt the hands on his back, and his body had reacted all on its own. No input required. He wasn't even really aware of what was going on –other than the blinding fear –until Gus spoke.

"Shawn… Shawn, it's me. Gus. I was just… I just wanted to touch you, and… make sure this wasn't all a dream."

Slowly, Shawn lowered the gun, still shaking in fear.

"Gus? What the hell were you thinking?" He demanded, shoving the gun back under his sleeping bag. "I could have _killed_ you!" Shawn scrubbed his hands over his face, still trying to catch up with his body's reactions.

"Well… I definitely wasn't thinking you'd pull a gun on me, that's for sure," Gus said, his voice deceptively casual. "Didn't even know you _had_ a gun to be honest."

Shawn took a deep breath, shoving the last of his mind-numbing terror out of his body with the breath, and ran one hand through his hair.

"It's uh… just something I picked up while I was on the road, you know? Just wanted something to keep the crazies at bay. It's dangerous out there on the road you know."

He had tried to put a laugh in there. Maybe some sort of accent. He wasn't exactly sure. All he knew was whatever he'd tried, it'd failed miserably. He'd wanted to pass it off as a joke.

But it'd failed. It'd come off as way, way too real. Which it was unfortunately, but Gus couldn't know that. _Gus couldn't know anything about what had happened._

"Shawn, what's going on?" Gus asked softly. "What happened while you were gone?"

Shawn forced a chuckle. "That's a lot of time to cover, Gus… I was gone for almost seven and a half years. I did a lot of things; a lot of things happened. I went to Disney World, and the Grand Canyon, Sea World, Yosemite, uh…" Shawn trailed off, trying to pull names of famous destinations, but he was drawing a blank.

He hadn't really seen any of them, of course. Well, he'd seen the Grand Canyon as a kid with his dad, but that had been it.

"Bull, Shawn. I don't think you seen any of 'em. Where were you?"

"I already told you, Gus… Little bit of everywhere. Look, it's… it's late, can we pick this up tomorrow? I had a long day, and I'm tired, Gus. I just wanna get to sleep."

Gus pursed his lips. "Alright. Yeah. We can pick it up tomorrow. How 'bout right after we pick your mother up from the airport? That work for you?"

Shawn could feel his heart rate speed up, and a few moments later, he felt the low jolt from his pacemaker kicking in, trying to regulate his heartbeat.

"You… you called my mom?" He demanded, fighting to try and slow his heartbeat down.

"Yeah, I… Shawn?"

Shawn let out a small yelp, and clutched at his chest as he felt a larger volt shock him.

"Gus… Gus, I… pills… in the… backpack," He wheezed. "Bag… with… clothes." He tried the vagal maneuvers Dr. Alvarez had taught him, coughing, and panting, which wasn't terribly hard to do, all things considered. Especially with the damn pacemaker shocking him every ten or fifteen seconds.

He followed Gus's movement, watching as his best friend ripped through his bags, scattering his other pill bottles on the floor, until he found his Rythmol.

"How many, Shawn?" He asked calmly, although his frenzied movements to get back to Shawn belied the casual exterior.

"Two," Shawn wheezed, watching as Gus opened the bottle and handed him two of the large white tablets. He threw them back, swallowing as quickly as possible, grimacing at the bitter taste, as he washed them down with some of leftover soda.

After a tense minute or so, he could feel his heart rate start to slow down, and breathing gradually became easier and easier. After another minute, he grinned at Gus, who was staring at him nervously.

"Aren't I just the life of the party, huh?"

Gus eyeballed him dangerously. "Don't try and laugh this off, Shawn," He warned. "I thought you said you were fine; that your tachycardia was under control! That's not under control, Shawn!"

Shawn shrugged. "It is… For the most part," He added, seeing Gus's look darken.

"And what about the rest of these?" Gus asked sarcastically, grabbing the other bottles, and glancing at them. "Vicoden, Axert… Ceptaz? Shawn, this is a level three antibiotic! What the hell is this for? What the hell is goin' on with you? And those scars on your back?" At Shawn's deer in the headlight look, Gus continued, "Yeah. I saw 'em, Shawn. What the hell happened to you?"

Shawn hesitated for a moment, before sighing. "Look, it doesn't matter, alright? I'm fi –"

"Don't even say you're fine, Shawn! You just had a damn heart attack! You're on one of the most powerful antibiotics on the market! Your damn back is covered in whipping scars! The last thing you are is fine!"

"For starters… That wasn't a heart attack. That was a… very mild, heart-beating-too-fast episode."

"Shawn, stop it! I'm your best friend!"

"Look, Gus, I'm fine, alright! Hell, it's almost four in the morning! Let's just… let's just wrap it up for the night, alright? We'll talk more tomorrow. I think we both could use a good night's sleep."

"You expect me to sleep after _that_?"

Shawn's dark eyes flashed, and instantly, Gus started having a déjà vu moment. Anger contorted Shawn's face…

But only for the briefest second, and the weary, tired look returned.

"Look, Gus… My meds make me sleepy, alright? I just… I really am tired. And I really don't need another episode right now. Can we please just… let it go for now?"

"And what am I supposed to tell your mother tomorrow, huh?"

"Absolutely nothing," Shawn said, a yawn interrupting him midway through, as he laid back down on his sleeping bag. "The less she knows –"Another yawn " –the better."

"Shawn –"

He knew Gus was still talking. And even though he knew it was nothing he wanted to hear, he did try to make himself focus on whatever it was. But between the meds, and the adrenaline, and the long bike ride, he just couldn't do it.

"Shhh…" He mumbled, as his eyes slowly closed, and he slipped into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Alrighty so here you go, back from my vacation, so here's the next chapter. : ) Hope you all enjoy, some of the secrets are revealed, but not all of them by any means. : ) Thanks to everyone who's read, and special thanks to everyone who's reviewed.

* * *

"Wakey, wakey, buddy!"

Gus groaned at the happy, upbeat voice in his ear, and rolled over, burying his head under the pillow.

"Ah, come on, Gussy-poo! It's almost noon! Up, up, up!"

Gus cracked open one eye, and glared up at Shawn, who was grinning at him like a crazy maniac.

"Dude… how long have you been awake?" Gus muttered, sitting up slowly, and stretching his back.

Shawn shrugged as he grabbed something out of his bag, and tossed it to Gus. "Since about seven… ish."

Gus frowned at the Pop-tart in his hand, before sighing, and deciding to play along. "Really, Shawn? Blueberry? You know I hate blueberry. Tell me you got some brown sugar in there."

Shawn laughed, and tossed another Pop-Tart at him.

"So what's on the to-do list today? Other than pick your mom up from the airport whenever she calls," Gus added, unable to completely let go of the issue.

Shawn twitched for a moment, before the smile returned. "Dunno. See the town, see what's going on… Maybe get some food," He said offhandedly, grabbing a set of clothes from his bag.

"Shawn… you know we have to talk about this, right?"

Shawn stiffened, and paused for a second, before nodding. "I know. But how 'bout some food first, huh?" He said, the laughing tone coming back. "I'm starving!"

It was about half an hour later when the two of them emerged from the pizza shop, dressed in clean clothes, and Gus feeling much more awake. Shawn's good mood had been infectious, and he found himself grinning like an idiot right along with his best friend.

"So you wanna ride with me? Or you wanna follow me on your bike?" Gus asked unsurely.

Shawn hesitated, before nodding. "I'll ride with you, buddy! We'll be like the male version of Thelma and Louise!"

"Uh… Shawn? They were two women, who hated men, and drove off a cliff and died at the end."

Shawn eyeballed him. "Really? I don't remember that part. Well… we'll be the male, non-male hating, non-suicidal version of Thelma and Louise!"

"Shawn… That whole movie was based off of their mutual hatred and distrust of men. And technically, I don't think they were suicidal."

Shawn sighed, rolling his eyes as he got into the vehicle. "Of course not, Gus. They were just so upset at the injustices of the world, and could find no other way out, except to go over a cliff together."

"Actually…" Gus trailed off, a grin on his face as he realized that Shawn was just purposely egging him on, trying to get a rise out of him.

Shawn grinned in response, before glancing around the car. "Wait a minute… you don't like blueberries… So you went out and got a car that –for all intents and purposes –is a blueberry?"

"It's not a blueberry, Shawn! It's an Echo; a company vehicle!"

"It's blue, Gus! Although, it is smaller than a blueberry, I'll grant you."

Gus frowned. "Remind me again why I missed you so damn much. Please. Otherwise I'm just gonna shove you out right now," He said teasingly as he threw the car into drive, and started down the road.

If he hadn't been looking, he would have missed it. The slight tremor, the brief horrified look on his face, the closed eyes… it lasted only a second or two before vanishing, but he knew what he had saw.

And he was more determined than ever to ferret the truth out of his best friend.

* * *

Shawn had complained the first half of the car ride to the airport. Then he'd sat in angry silence, arms folded over his chest.

Gus had given up trying to reason with him about five minutes earlier, after ten minutes of his pleas of reason being met by stony silence. It didn't matter anyways.

He sighed as he put pulled the car into the parking garage, and turned it off.

"Are you at least gonna come with me to get her?"

Shawn snorted, but slowly got out of the car, stretching out, and almost absently rubbing at his jaw.

"Are you gonna speak to me while we go find her?" At his friend's icy glare, Gus finally exploded. "Oh, come on, Shawn! We were having a great day! You were in a great mood! Why the hell is this such a big deal? Did you really expect me to _not_ tell your mother you were back in town? It's been _seven_ years, Shawn!"

The incredulous look on Shawn's face made Gus want to slap him, although he barely resisted the urge.

They had been having a nice day. Everything had been going fine. That is, until Maddie called, and told Gus she'd be arriving in Santa Barbara at six thirty, as long as she didn't hit a layover in San Francisco. That had been a little after one, during her stop over at Colorado, and Shawn had done nothing but bitch, whine and moan since then. Actually, when Gus thought about it, the silence was kinda nice. But it wasn't to last.

"You're right, Gus. I haven't seen her in seven years! What the hell am I supposed to say, huh? Hi mom, sorry I was a selfish, arrogant little shit. Please take me home and love and coddle me? Or maybe, hello there, mother dearest… Thank you for leaving me with Henry and vanishing from my life completely, which ultimately lead to… You know what, it doesn't even matter! The last thing I need is my mom crying all over me, trying to shrink analyze me. "

Gus had a sudden flash of insight, as he started pulling Shawn into the airport. "That's what this is all about, isn't it? You're worried about her ferreting something out of you!" He said accusingly.

Shawn rolled his eyes again. "Really, Gus? Do you remember my mother at all? She won't want to know anything, other than if I'm okay. All she's gonna do is blame herself for letting Henry shove her out the door, and it's all gonna be about her. How she missed me, how she felt while I was gone, how could I do that to her… Blagh, blagh, blagh, ad nauseam."

Gus eyeballed him as they entered the airport. "That last one, she would be pretty spot on about."

"Look, Gus, I never meant to be gone that long, alright? God damn…"

"If you didn't mean to be gone that long, you wouldn't have been, Shawn," Gus said heatedly, as they made their way up the stairs to the second level. "Or how hard would it have been to pick up a phone and call?"

Shawn stopped, and spun on Gus angrily.

"You know what, Gus? It would have been pretty fucking hard!" He seethed. "Seeing as how the first four years I was gone, I was kept drugged out of my fucking mind… Except when my fucking _pimp_ was sending me off with complete strangers, like the one who tore my back apart, as you so nicely found when you were snooping. Or the few times when I wasn't completely trashed out of my mind, I was usually in too much pain to move. And after… What the hell was I supposed to say, huh? 'Hey, Gus, I managed to escape from the pimp who was selling my ass for forty bucks a pop… still got the taste of spunk in my mouth, so you wanna bring a toothbrush for me'? Tell me again how _easy_ that would have been, Gus!"

The horrified look on Gus's face –while bad enough –was nothing compared to the small, quiet gasp behind him. Shawn spun around, only to find himself face to face with his mother.

"Oh, Goose…" She whispered, reaching a hand out towards him.

Shawn hesitated…

…Before bolting back down the stairs, and out of the airport.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Alright, sorry so long for the update... Haven't been very motivated with this one lately. But, at the very least, here's another chapter.

Warnings: This one gets a little brutal. Nothing terrible, but mentions of rape, forced drug use, etc, etc. Not for the faint at heart.

* * *

Shawn ran. _Again_.

He wasn't sure where he was running. He just had to get away. From the pitiful looks. The horrified faces.

_The memories._

The photographic memory and hyper-alert senses his father used to call his 'gift' made sure that Shawn never forgot one second of those damn memories. Sometimes, he wondered why his head hadn't exploded from the amount of shit his mind retained. Especially with the crystal clear, high quality horror reels it'd picked up over the previous seven years. How much garbage could one brain hold before it finally exploded? Before the memories –that only bothered him seventy percent of the time –took up full, permanent residence in his conscious psyche, driving him to the brink of insanity? How long would it take to go mad?

Or maybe it was better phrased as 'how long _had_ it taken him to go mad'?

Four years' worth of beatings. Four years of forced drug injections. Four years of hallucinations from said drugs.

_Four years of rapes._

The pain. The God-awful pain. Pain so bad he just wanted to curl up and die. Pain so severe, he would forget who he was, where he was, or what was causing the pain in the first damn place.

He hadn't been on the road very long when Kyle found him. As a matter of fact, he'd only been gone two weeks when he hit San Francisco. Hungry, cold, tired, and more than a little angry after going to his mom's house, and not finding her.

Looking back, he'd been the perfect target. The easy mark. Kyle had plied him with food, and a place to stay. Fed him some bullshit story about how Kyle had done the same thing in his youth, after an argument with his own parents. How Kyle had fallen in with some bad characters, and he wanted to keep Shawn from the same fate.

And Shawn had fallen for it. Hook, line, and sinker. He'd been so enraptured with the man's lies about his 'impetuous and dangerous youth', he didn't notice the funny taste to his drink, or the little roofie pill disintegrating in the bottom of the glass. He didn't notice the hazy, fuzzy feeling, or the nausea building in his gut until it was way too late.

Even its drunk, drugged fog, his brain still retained every piece of information from that night. How many magnets were on the cheap, faded yellow fridge. How many steps it took for Kyle to carry him to his bedroom.

The weak, pathetic attempts at fighting back.

He'd spent almost a week tied down to Kyle's bed. Every few hours, the man would return, force him to either swallow liquid that Shawn would later find out was a type of acid, or shoot him full of heroin, before raping him again. And again, and again…

After the first week, Kyle let him up for the first time. Just long enough to drag Shawn's thin, emaciated body to the shower. Scrub him down.

And then it was right back to the bed.

And another week of hell.

Halfway through the second week, Shawn began to lose track of time. His life became an endless cycle of hallucinations, drugs, and rape. How long had it been? How long had Kyle kept Shawn to himself, before realizing the gold mine he was sitting on?

The next time Shawn was allowed out of his bindings, and off of the bed, it was only to receive a beating. Not one of those pansy-assed spankings he'd gotten from his father as a child. Kicks to the groin. Punches to the kidneys, and the head.

While Shawn could remember every incident that took place over those four years he remained with Kyle, times and dates had gradually gotten distorted. He was only rarely allowed out of the shitty apartment, and even then, it was usually only to go with another John. Only at night. Time had eventually lost all meaning, as four years turned into a lifetime of agony. An eon of pain.

And then that night. The night with the Johns, one of whose name –ironically –was actually John. John Schweitzer, and his buddy Ray Bouvay. The men who had whipped him until he passed out, and then driven him to the hospital, only to throw the half-dead young man from their vehicle without stopping, or even slowing down.

Shawn had spent six weeks in the hospital, two of those weeks in a medically induced coma while they re-broke and reset both his arms, his right wrist, right ankle, and three of his ribs, along with attempting to fix his completely shattered femur, his left shoulder, and his right knee cap, along with half the bones in his face, and his torn up back, while trying to detox him from the large doses of heroin in his system.

When he'd first arrived at the hospital, he'd been in the stages of a class IV hemorrhage, and was still losing blood quickly. John and Ray had quite literally ripped his back apart, cutting deep into muscles and tissue, and in a few areas, straight down to the bone.

The doctors tried prying information out of him. Asked him who he was. If he had family.

He'd told them they were all dead.

After his release, they'd tried to put him up in a homeless shelter for young men, while encouraging him to go to physical therapy.

He never did. The second the police officers had left him at the large shelter downtown, Shawn had bolted.

Again.

* * *

"Shawn?"

Shawn wiped the tears from his eyes, and cleared his throat. Somehow –and it was scary how he couldn't remember how –he'd ended up in-between the wall and a car. In the airport parking lot, he was pretty sure.

"Shawn, are you out here?"

Wiping his eyes again –damn, where the hell were the tears coming from? –he stood, and forced himself to smile as Gus spotted him.

"Gus! There you are, buddy! I was uh… I was…"

Gus felt his heart tightening at the lost, broken look on Shawn's face, as his best friend struggled to come up with a joke, a reason, anything.

"Shawn," Gus said softly, after a few moments of Shawn's stammering. "It's alright."

"No, I was just uh… just… needed a quick breath of air real quick. Sorry, I didn't mean to uh… to freak anybody out, or anything." Shawn's brows drew closer together in confusion. "Where's my mom?"

Gus sighed. "She took a cab to her hotel. I've got the address, she just didn't think you'd want to see her right now. Shawn, do you… Do you wanna talk about this?"

Gus was surprised when Shawn actually seemed to think about it, before shaking his head.

"No. No, I just… I can't, Gus. Not now," He said, his voice hoarse.

Gus nodded in understanding, as he wrapped an arm around his best friend's shoulders. "Alright. Don't have to do it now. But eventually, Shawn, you're gonna have to talk about it. We both know it."

Shawn sniffed back a few tears, and gave Gus a horribly fake smile. "Yeah. I know."

For a moment, Gus couldn't see Shawn. All he could see was the broken, emotionally battered young man standing before him.

Because _Shawn_ didn't have that slumped shoulder defeated look. The pained look, the one that reminded him of the kids he'd seen in the news, the ones who had been beaten by their parents, or the ones starving in Africa. That hopeless look that said they had nothing left to live for; that there was no point in even trying.

_Shawn_ didn't have that look. _Shawn_ had the carefree, jackass, shit-eating grin. The 'I can take on the world' attitude. That was Shawn…

Not this broken, empty shell of a human being.

While Gus was trying to figure out what to say, what to do, Shawn changed, right before his very eyes. Almost as if Shawn pulled the wounded part of himself back inside, and Old Shawn appeared on command. But for the first time, Gus noticed the slight tightness around the corner of Shawn's eyes, the slight down turn at the corners of his lips, even as he smiled.

"Hey, why don't we get some food? You hungry? I'm hungry," Old Shawn said, that shit-eating grin back in place. "How 'bout some jerked chicken? You know you can't resist."

Gus couldn't find words, as Shawn walked by him, slapping him on the back, as he headed towards the Echo across the lot.

"Oh, well I'm thinking about it, we gotta swing back by my place… Forgot something."

Gus kept silent as he nodded, unwilling to push Shawn any further, not after the melt-down in the airport.

But he wondered which one of the eight different prescription pills in Shawn's bag the brunette man had forgotten.

* * *

Maddy had been in a fog the entire check in. It really didn't click with her what was going on. She checked in, rode the elevator to her room, opened the door with the key, and set her bags down, all in a daze.

Slowly, she pulled her little address book out of her suitcase, and sat on the bed, picking up the phone, and staring at it for a few moments, before finally dialing the number she'd only called twice in the past six years.

"_Leave a message at the beep."_

"Henry? It's Maddy. Henry… Shawn's come home, and… And I really need you here."


End file.
